Great Expectations
by ancslove
Summary: In which Grantaire's penis develops the ability to think and speak, and befriends Enjolras. Contains slashy elements.
1. Chapter 1

"So, you agree that a strong series of newspaper editorials is the best way to stir up public indignation against these new ordinances."

Grantaire should have been over-the-moon ecstatic. Enjolras was kneeling by his bed, talking to him openly and excitedly. He'd dreamed of this moment, dreamed of the day when Enjolras would finally accept him as a real friend, bestow on him that warmth and passion that Enjolras reserved for those closest to him. And now that day was here. Only, Enjolras wasn't really talking to _him_. No, Enjolras was addressing his penis.

Grantaire still wasn't sure how his penis came to have the power of speech. He'd been stroking himself in the early hours of one morning, daydreaming of his idol, when his erection spoke. At first, he thought he was still caught in an absinthe-induced dream - absinthe did strange things to his mind, sometimes. He'd finally ascertained that he was indeed both awake and sober, and his cock still talked to him. It only spoke when hard, and that had put a decided cramp in Grantaire's sex life. More curiously, his cock managed to have opinions of its own, independent from Grantaire. One of those opinions was a strong streak of Republicanism.

To start, the discovery was more annoying than anything. Grantaire heard enough Republican talk from his friends, and didn't really need his own organ providing more. It was a bit like living with Enjolras, only without any of the perks. That thought gave Grantaire his idea. Late one night, he hung back in the Musain as his other friends left, staying to catch Enjolras, who often remained alone, working. He'd been deliberately sober for this conversation, and worked up the courage to come clean to Enjolras. The other man had been understandably skeptical, but Grantaire persisted.

By the grace of Lady Luck, it worked. Curiosity won out, and Enjolras agreed to go home with him and see for himself this phenomenon. That first night, Grantaire had shut the door and kept to his front room, not wanting to scare Enjolras off or make him think that this was all just an elaborate scheme to take advantage of him. He'd undone his trousers and began to rub himself, apologizing profusely to the stone-faced Enjolras for the necessity. Enjolras was at the door when his cock began to speak.

That was it. They were off, comparing viewpoints and asking each other a flurry of questions. Enjolras filled his cock in on the details that Grantaire always forgot to report, and his cock seemed so pleased to be able to share its views with a more willing audience. Enjolras, for his part, never even seemed to notice that his new friend was, indeed, a talking penis. Now, he often followed Grantaire home, and conversations had moved to Grantaire's bedroom. It was heaven, and at the same time, it was almost unbearable torture. He was Tantalus now, with his fruit so close, yet forever out of reach.

The discourse continued, and Grantaire admired his friend as he listened. Enjolras' perfect features were alight with the enthusiasm of his vision, glowing. His eyes, beautiful and warm, were fastened on Grantaire's hard penis. It was everything Grantaire had dreamed, and he wanted to weep.

Enjolras shifted his position on the floor, resting his shoulder against Grantaire's bare thigh. Grantaire almost jumped in surprise, then looked down at the other. Slowly, with great daring, he brushed his hand against Enjolras' hair. When Enjolras didn't react or pause his conversation, he trailed his fingers through the soft blond waves, then come to rest on the crook where shoulder met neck. Enjolras looked up at him then, with a quiet smile, then rested his head on Grantaire's thigh and continued his debate on how to best defeat the new government strictures.

So, it wasn't all that Grantaire had once fantasized. His sex life was now non-existant. But he had Enjolras here, with him, relaxed and happy. And sometimes the three of them would talk of other topics. Enjolras smiled at him now, granted him a closer degree of friendship and trust. And maybe, one day, the rest of Grantaire's dream could come true.


	2. Chapter 2: Combeferre Finds Out

"A talking penis. Are you sure you are well?"

Combeferre studied his friend. Enjolras seemed healthy and alert enough, despite the late hour, but he just wasn't making sense. According to Enjolras, Grantaire's penis was suddenly capable of independent thought and speech. Combeferre wasn't sure if this were some kind of joke, albeit not along Enjolras' usual humor, or a nefarious plot of Grantaire. He reached forward to feel his friend's forehead.

Enjolras batted his hand away. "I'm fine. And I've seen it, Combeferre! Furthermore, it shares our views! Grantaire seemed a bit disgruntled that part of his body was now a Republican, but he's been very accommodating to me. He's welcomed me over at all hours, and even ended his drinking nights early for me. And once you start talking, you forget that your companion is physically a male organ."

Combeferre snorted. He could easily believe Enjolras' first point, and highly doubted the latter. Of course Grantaire would be thrilled to have Enjolras' attention, and no, Enjolras, most men would not be able to forget that they were conversing with a cock.

"Are you certain that this isn't some elaborate scheme or joke on Grantaire's part? Possibly on Courfeyrac or Bossuet's urging? Enjolras, penii don't speak."

A frown, hurt and betrayed, and Combeferre felt an utter monster. "Quite certain, and this one does. You should know me better than this."

Combeferre groped for something to say as Enjolras stared at him in wounded confusion. Then, the blond was up in a whirlwind of excitement, grabbing Combeferre's hands and pulling him to his feet. "Come on! The only way you'll believe this is to see it yourself! Grantaire's likely home now, but he'll let me in."

Sighing, Combeferre could do nothing but follow. And if this was a trick of Grantaire's, to capture Enjolras' passion and focus, then the drunkard was in for a world of pain.

Well, it seemed that Enjolras was correct. Grantaire's penis talked. A half-asleep Grantaire had greeted them at the door and admitted them in to his apartment, and Combeferre hadn't missed the way the other's eyes lit up at the sight of Enjolras. That hadn't done anything to improve Combeferre's mood, and he'd followed them into the bedroom rather sourly, contemplating the merits of using Grantaire for target practice. When Grantaire had taken down his trousers and started stroking himself, Combeferre was ready to storm out of the apartment, dragging Enjolras with him, and quite possibly return alone with shotgun in hand.

"Hello. We have a newcomer?"

That wasn't quite Grantaire's voice, and more importantly, Grantaire's mouth hadn't moved. Not conclusive by any means, but it was something. He looked down and the erect penis bobbed in front of him.

"Are you one of Enjolras' friends?"

Well, crap. Now what? He supposed that answering was the best way to get to the bottom of this.

"Yes, I am. My name is Combeferre. Might I inquire as to your own?"

Another bob, almost like a nod of assent. "Grantaire always calls me Capital R. I think I'm more of an Alphonse."

Enjolras was watching him with that mixture of hope and anticipation that never failed to tug at his heart. Grantaire was also watching him, with a good deal more trepidation, but none of the secret guilt that Combeferre expected to find. Curiosity overriding his logic, he crept closer, and poked the hard shaft. Two voices protested simultaneously.

"Ouch!" yelped the cock.

"Hey! Don't do that!" from Grantaire.

Well, that did it. The penis spoke, Combeferre couldn't deny it. Whether it did so completely independent of Grantaire's mind was yet to be determined, but it spoke.

"Fascinating! How do you think it happened? Has it always spoken? This defies the laws of nature, and I know several people who would be very interested. Have you eaten anything unusual, Grantaire? Do you mind if I perform some experiments sometime?"

Grantaire looked horrified. "Yes, I bloody do mind! No, you are not experimenting on me or Capital R!"

The cock chimed in agreement, "No experiments, please! I don't know how I came to speak, it just happened!"

Enjolras edged forward. "Combeferre, I wouldn't inform anyone else about this, especially beyond our circle. If word got out, it could be catastrophic."

Combeferre touched Enjolras' shoulder in reassurance. "You're right, no outsiders. And I can only imagine what our other friends would say! But, Grantaire, and, um, Alphonse, I would like to talk some more with you both."

Grantaire glanced at Enjolras, who nodded at him, then sighed. "Fine, if you must. But not now. It's late and we're tired, so if you could be so kind as to leave?" In a much softer voice, "Enjolras, you're more than welcome to stay."

Enjolras shook his head, "No, no. It is late, and we've imposed enough. Besides, Combeferre, there's still some work to finish. We should be going. Goodnight, Grantaire, Alphonse."

Combeferre let Enjolras precede him out, then lowered his voice. "And if I find that this is some hoax, and you're preying on his beliefs, there will be hell to pay. Don't hurt him."

Looking oddly dignified half-dressed, Grantaire avowed, "I would never hurt him."

Combeferre grunted, and followed Enjolras into the night.


	3. Chapter 3: Interlude I

"Ugh, I should have expected this!" Grantaire flopped backwards onto his bed with a disgruntled moan.

"He was a rather unpleasant individual. Who is he?"

"Enjolras' closest and oldest friend. And self-appointed watchdog." Rather uncharitable, but Grantaire wasn't feeling too kindly disposed to the medical student right now. The last few weeks, he'd been basking in Enjolras' attention and burgeoning friendship, and he'd forgotten about Combeferre. Foolish of him. But he'd done nothing wrong, and he wasn't going to apologize about suddenly having a prick that literally spoke. Nor would he apologize for realizing that said prick and its idealistic Republicanism might interest Enjolras.

His cock bounced against his stomach insistently. "What did he mean by experiments? I don't want to be poked again!"

Grantaire let out another groan. That was the other downside to Combeferre finding out. He'd want to know more: how, why, when, et cetera. He'd probably be back with an armful of torturous instruments, and Grantaire prayed that Combeferre wouldn't want any samples.

"He's a medical student with an insatiable appetite for knowledge. A bookworm. He is Asclepius, Apollo, and Athena all rolled into one highly irritating package. Don't worry, Capital R. I won't let him experiment. I don't want to be poked, either! Or worse. Nope, I fully plan on keeping you attached to me."

Could a penis pout? His was making a fair attempt. "I like to be called Alphonse. But, thank you."

Rolling over onto his stomach, and ignoring the _ooof_ from "Alphonse", Grantaire reached under the bed for the bottle of brandy he stashed there. He took a long draught, and pondered this new predicament. He'd grown quite fond of his talkative Capital R (no, he refused to keep thinking of it as Alphonse), even though he really did miss sex. But Capital R had brought him Enjolras, who was worth far more than any one night stands with pretty grisettes or whores. He hoped that Combeferre couldn't find a cure. He took another swig.

"Capital R? Go away for awhile, I want to get thoroughly drunk."


	4. Chapter 4: A Series of Confessions

Combeferre flipped through his text, but his heart wasn't in it. The words held no meaning, his thoughts refused to coalesce properly on his material. Finally, he surrendered and dropped his head onto the book. There'd been no sleep last night. Not since meeting Grantaire and Grantaire's … ailment. If that was the correct word for such a thing. Grantaire himself hadn't seemed too put out by his affliction, only by Combeferre's own presence, and had ordered them out. Well no, he'd ordered Combeferre out, and explicitly welcomed Enjolras to stay.

Enjolras. That was another problem. Thankfully, Enjolras hadn't said "I told you so," he was far too dignified and earnest to even think of the words. He _had_ talked the entire walk back to Combeferre's flat and well into the night about his new friend and how interested Alphonse was in their cause, and what ideas he had to contribute. Halfway through his monologue, Combeferre had started to feel a bit jealous of a talking penis, and had to scold himself harshly for his errant thought. At the end of it, he'd taken Combeferre's hand and asked him to hold off on running any invasive interrogations or experiments, arguing that Alphonse was a sentient being who deserved respect. Faced with those bright blue eyes, as trusting and warm as they always were when they looked at him, Combeferre had agreed. And Enjolras' smile had temporarily chased away his worries. Enjolras wouldn't be pleased if Combeferre harmed Alphonse, or Grantaire for that matter, and Combeferre hated to upset him.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting face down on his book, when a soft touch to his shoulder startled him out of his musings. Courfeyrac looked down at him, concern and laughter warring on his face.

"Did I wake you? It's not often I get to find you asleep on the job! Nothing too taxing, I trust?"

Combeferre just heaved a sigh, and Courfeyrac slid into the seat opposite him. "All right, what's wrong? You really are not acting yourself!"

"Enjolras," Combeferre muttered before he could stop himself. Damn. Courfeyrac's concern deepened.

"He's not sick, is he? Or has our dear angel decided on some explosive political demonstration that you deem unnecessarily flashy?"

"Neither one," Combeferre answered, a bit testily, then he softened. "Sorry, I'm just tired. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"Don't be sorry. Tell me what's wrong."

Combeferre bit his lip, weighing his options. Finally, "Can I trust you to keep a secret?"

A wide grin split Courfeyrac's face before he composed himself. "Certainly, dear fellow! To the grave!"

Another sigh. How to put this? "Have you noticed anything different about Enjolras and Grantaire?"

Courfeyrac furrowed his brow in thought, "No, can't say I have, really. Well, all right, Enjolras sometimes seems more relaxed around Capital R, who of course, moons after Enjolras as always. What are you trying to say?"

Combeferre nodded. Courfeyrac was very observant and intuitive about people, and if he said that there hadn't been any great shift in Enjolras' and Grantaire's daily interaction, then Combeferre could at least take comfort in knowing that he hadn't missed any extremely visible sign. "It seems that. It all sounds so ridiculous, but I've seen it myself now. It's happened that Grantaire, um, Grantaire's. Ugh, fine, I'll just say it! Grantaire's erection can speak."

Courfeyrac blinked wide eyes. "Excuse me?"

Slowly and precisely, "Grantaire's erection has somehow acquired the power of speech. And thought. And it declares itself to be a Republican in spir-," He cut off as Courfeyrac fell out of his chair laughing.

Combeferre waited as his friend writhed on the floor in mirth. He couldn't blame Courfeyrac for his reaction, but it was a tad irritating.

Gasping for breath, "I-I'm sorry! One m-moment, ppplease!" After several minutes, Courfeyrac finally calmed down enough to speak in longer phrases. "You did just say that _Grantaire's cock can talk_, right? Did I hear you correctly? And is _Republican_?"

Impatiently, "Yes, you heard correctly. I know it sounds downright ludicrous, but, from what I saw last night, it does speak. I haven't heard it speak anything of substance yet, but Enjolras is quite taken with it."

That set Courfeyrac off again. "Wwwait! You've seen Grantaire's erection? Why? How? And Enjolras? Our Enjolras? What do you mean, taken with it?"

"Enjolras informed me of this development, he was quite enthusiastic. He fairly dragged me to Grantaire last night. It spoke to me. Then, I, um, experimentally poked it with my finger, and both the penis and Grantaire protested. Simultaneously, in two distinct voices. Unfortunately, I was stopped from experimenting further."

Courfeyrac dissolved once more into peals of laughter, and Combeferre dropped his forehead back onto his book.

* * *

"You've been unusually snappish lately. What's wrong?"

Grantaire grunted in response to Jehan's question. Unfortunately, he knew the poet spoke the truth. He had been on edge and irritable ever since Combeferre's unexpected arrival at his apartment. Combeferre himself was keeping a surprising distance. Grantaire had been dreading being poked (again!) and prodded, ostensibly in the name of science; he wouldn't put it past the other to recommend castration, as the best cure for his "affliction"! So far Combeferre hadn't barged down his door, wielding an array of scary-looking instruments, but that didn't prevent Grantaire's absinthe-spurred imagination from running amok. No, he was certain that Combeferre would be back, eager to learn new scientific mysteries, and punish Grantaire for involving his friend. He needed allies.

Jehan filled two glasses with wine and pushed one toward Grantaire. "Here, drink this, then tell me why you snarled at poor Lesgles yesterday. You know he can't help it when he knocks over your bottles, and you've never minded before."

Jehan would understand. Yes, Jehan, with his distaste for conventional normality and his adoration of all things mysterious, would easily accept his new oddity, and might even be able to offer some insight, some arcane bit of lore he'd picked up from his poetry.

"Jehan, my friend, may I confide in you a secret?"

Jehan, lovely, sweet little Jehan, leaned forward, all concerned, genuine compassion. "Of course you can. Are you ill?"

"Not exactly ill. But I do have a slight. Problem is too strong a word. You see, one day, I made an incredible discovery. I was reminiscing about a night of fun with a sweet grisette - gorgeous young thing, and so eager to please! She had a very talented tongue, and that wasn't her only skill! Well, I was daydreaming of her, when all of a sudden, my erection spoke to me. Literally. I was shocked, but it kept talking, even when I pinched myself or dunked my head in a bucket of cold water. Now, every time I am hard, it gains its own mind and speech. We hold the most fascinating conversations, but it does mean that I have not been gracing the local girls with my company anymore."

Jehan gawked, wide-eyed and enthralled. Grantaire had always had a gift for story-telling. "How long has this been happening? Do you know why your erection can speak? Does anyone else know about this? Does it ever happen when you are not hard?"

Grantaire chuckled at the stream of questions. "Maybe a month. And no, I have no idea. Capital R only comes to life when hard, it must be the increased flow of blood to its head. And, Enjolras knows. Capital R is decidedly opinionated, and he has a strong fondness for a Republic. I thought Enjolras might be interested."

Jehan had taken a gulp of his wine, and now spat the liquid back out. Ignoring the spray of alcohol across his face, Grantaire reached over and thumped his sputtering companion on the back. Jehan coughed for a minute, then managed to gasp out, "Now you're making up stories! Enjolras? What did he say?"

"He befriended Capital R quite quickly. It's been lovely having him visit," Grantaire smiled dreamily, remembering the way Enjolras liked to curl up against his legs and talk deep into the night while Grantaire pet his hair.

Jehan shook his head, but his smile was sincere. "My congratulations, then. I'm pleased for you. So, are we three the only ones in the know?"

Grantaire's expression darkened as he remembered his problem. "Not quite. Combeferre knows now - Enjolras told him. And now he can't decide whether he wants to strap me to his experiment table and run wild with his toys, or just shoot me for involving Enjolras."

Grantaire had hoped for a little commiseration from the soft-hearted poet. An indignantly impassioned defense would also have been welcome and gratifying. Instead, Jehan laughed his delight.

"So that's why Combeferre has been so down the past few days! I'd wondered! But don't worry, Grand-R. I'm sure he won't harm you. Although you might cheer him up if you allow him to run just one examination. I'll stay with you for it, if you'd like. But please, tell me more about this. It's fascinating!"

With a smile, Grantaire poured some more wine and launched into a detailed story of his new life with Capital R.

* * *

"Erm, Joly, might I have a minute?" Jehan asked, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

Joly paused his conversation with Bossuet, to scrutinize the poet. "Of course! You're ill, aren't you? Simultaneously pale and flushed, and you must be having vision problems if you're wearing orange and purple together like that! Sit down and let me feel your forehead, there's been a horrible outbreak of influenza going around. Stick out your tongue!"

"No, no, I'm not ill! Nothing like that, I just. Need your medical expertise for a question - completely unrelated to me. And, I'd like to ask you and our Eagle to keep this matter between us, if it's not too much." Jehan sat anyway and let Joly feel his cheeks and forehead and examine his tongue, just to ease his mind.

"Alright, you're not feverish yet. What can I do for you? Promise Bossuet and I can keep a secret!"

Jehan looked down at the table for a moment, unsure how to begin. He felt terrible about breaking Grantaire's confidence, but he simply had to know that there was nothing medically wrong with him.

"It's about Grantaire. Recently, he's acquired the most extraordinary ability! His member has developed a life and tongue of its own! Well, I don't think it has a literal tongue, but it can speak. I haven't seen this marvel yet, but Grantaire didn't _say_ it had an actual tongue. I just want to make sure — why are you laughing?"

Bossuet was by now bent over double in merriment, while Joly's brows were drawn together in a serious frown.

Still laughing, Bossuet panted, "How much absinthe had Grantaire imbibed? Or how drunk were you? Are you sure he wasn't, you know, rambling on about symbols or gods or some such? You know Grantaire, he can be worse than Enjolras about his mythology. At least Enjolras' metaphors have a point! Perhaps Grantaire just meant that he'd found greater communion, shall we say, with his girls!"

Hurt, Jehan shook his head. "No! He meant it seriously! He wasn't more drunk than usual, and I wasn't drunk at all! It's a wonderful thing, I just want to make sure that it doesn't come with a catch."

From Joly, "It's not a good thing, at all! I haven't heard anything like it, but it's not good. He could be permanently hallucinating from all his spirits. Or, he could have contracted some horrible malady that manifests itself in a talking penis. Or in a mind that believes it's attached to a talking penis. I must see him!"

* * *

"Bonjour, mes amis!" Courfeyrac sailed through the door and plopped himself down at the table.

"Why so glum, boys? Did the enchanting Musichetta decide that she wanted a more normal lovelife?"

Joly and Bossuet turned matching scowls on him, and Courfeyrac raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right, apparently not! So, what's happened?"

Jehan shook his head fervently, "Oh, no! My sincerest apologies, Courfeyrac. This is a rather more sensitive matter than can handle you right now! It calls for delicacy and discretion now. Be patient, and I'm sure we'll be seeking your advice soon."

Courfeyrac unfurled a knowing grin and asked, "This wouldn't have anything to do with our dear cynic, would it?"

"He told you?" Jehan asked, sounding slightly disappointed, and Courfeyrac demurred.

"Not Grantaire. Combeferre told me. He's inordinately disgruntled about it all."

"Ahh. I told Grantaire that if he would just let Combeferre examine him, then Combeferre might be happy."

At that, Bossuet winced in apparent sympathy with Grantaire, and Joly's eyes lit up. "If Grand-R agrees, I would love to assist Combeferre!"

Bossuet doubled over and clutched his own package protectively, horrified, and Courfeyrac laughed.

"That's very wise advice, Jehan, and a very kind offer, Jolllly, but scientific frustration isn't the root of Combeferre's ill humor. Instead, he seems more put out by Enjolras' involvement. I think he'll only be happy once our revolutionary angel is well away from Capital R."

"Grantaire seemed afraid that Combeferre would shoot him," put in Jehan, and Courfeyrac shrugged,

"No doubt, Combeferre would like to!"

"So what do we do?" asked Joly dubiously.

Courfeyrac's wide grin soothed none of their nerves.

"Go to the one reliable source in this affair. Enjolras."

"No! Absolutely no!" protested Bossuet. "If you think I'm going to Enjolras and saying the words _Grantaire's talking cock_ to his face, you've lost one too many tussles with Bahorel, my friend."

"Come now, L'Aigle," Courfeyrac wheedled, "You all know this is the best way. We won't get anything more from Grantaire or Combeferre. All they'll do is rave and rant about Enjolras, anyway. Enjolras also has the answers, and he's the one most likely to give them to us. And if Enjolras has no idea of what we speak, then we know that Grantaire should really be cut off from any more alcohol, and Combeferre should step away from his moth collection and dead body parts, and get some more air."

* * *

They were gathered in the doorway to the Musain's back room, too nervous, with one obvious exception, to approach their target. "Courfeyrac, I really don't think this is a good idea!" Joly hissed.

His friend swatted him good-naturedly. "Nonsense, this is the perfect solution! Combeferre is currently too touchy - did you know he got annoyed at my reaction? - and Grantaire, though I love the fellow, is rather unreliable as a source of information. Enjolras is neither."

"And if Enjolras confirms this strange tale?" asked Bossuet.

Courfeyrac started to respond, to be cut off by Jehan's nudge. Enjolras, seated in his usual table surrounded by a pile of papers and books, was staring at them in mingled curiosity and concern, head cocked just slightly to the side.

Without raising his voice, he called out, "Gentlemen. Is there a problem?"

Courfeyrac strode forward, dragging Joly behind him, and slid into the seat next to Enjolras. "Problem is too strong a descriptor, my friend. But we do have a question for you, if you have a minute."

Enjolras nodded, acknowledging each in turn as the others gathered around his table. "Certainly. What can I do?"

Courfeyrac's smile probably aimed for friendly and casual, but managed to instead look thoroughly anticipatory. "I was speaking with Combeferre earlier. He told me of this remarkable … occurrence, shall we say … concerning one of our own. I must say that I expressed a rather disbelieving surprise, but further conversation seems to bear him out, and —"

Jiggling with nerves, Joly burst out, "Can Grantaire's prick really speak?"

Enjolras never batted an eye. "Yes, with its own mind."

With that affirmation, the floodgates opened, and a dozen questions flew, overlapping each other in their haste.

"Have you really spoken with it?"

"What's it like?"

"Combeferre is very put out, you do realize."

"Is Grantaire well? Would he allow us to examine him?"

"How did you ever discover this in the first place, Enjolras?"

"Have you talked with Grantaire since Combeferre was brought in the know?"

"Is it really Republican? What does Grantaire think of that? Does he now believe in our work?"

"Will Combeferre really shoot Grantaire?"

"How could you not tell me this? Really, Enjolras, I have to find out from Combeferre?"

Setting down his pen and capping his ink, Enjolras listened patiently until his friends ran out of breath. Then, "Courfeyrac, stop pouting. It was not my place to tell you yet. No, Jehan, Combeferre will not shoot Grantaire, I promise you. Grantaire seems well, although his own feelings about our endeavor have not changed. I don't know, Joly, if he would be amenable to an examination, he didn't seem inclined to want Combeferre to experiment on him. As for Combeferre, I know he's dubious about this development, he's simply being cautious. Once he sees the potential good in this, he'll come around."

Courfeyrac snorted indelicately. "He's jealous."

Enjolras turned on him a stern look, "You do him a disservice. Now, anything else?"

"Does it have a name?" Courfeyrac asked, realizing that the conversation about Combeferre was going nowhere anytime soon.

"Yes, he likes Alphonse. Although Grantaire calls him Capital R."

"So," Jehan ventured, "Grantaire's smaller head really does want to restore the Republic?"

Enjolras softened, "Indeed, and he has some interesting ideas. If Grantaire agrees, maybe he can join our discussions."

Bossuet laughed. "Maybe if we have Alphonse speak to the government, the king will regard it as a divine miracle, and step down!"

Enjolras shot him a sharp look, but a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps. The divine will made manifest. Grantaire might take issue with that, though."

Draping an arm over Enjolras' shoulders, Courfeyrac smiled cajolingly. "So. I'll forgive you for keeping this insanely interesting tidbit to yourself, if you'll tell us more about Alphonse now."


	5. Chapter 5: Reunion

Grantaire sprawled in his favorite chair, absently swigging from the bottle in his hand. It had not been a good week. Why did he confide in Jehan? Not that he had anything against the poet, but Jehan didn't have the greatest record for discretion. By now, he bet that all the Amis knew. They'd be banging down his door any minute now.

"What's wrong?"

Ahh, there he was. His talkative hard-on. Grantaire's lips twitched in a lazy smile.

"Nothing, now. Only we may have company soon. The others will know about you, and they're sure to be nosy."

"And this upsets you?"

"Nnnoo. I just. Liked it being you, me, and Enjolras." Grantaire knew he was in danger of pouting, but didn't much care. The nights with Enjolras and his Capital R were the best thing he'd ever known. And he was terrified that those nights were over. It didn't help his fears that Enjolras hadn't been near him since the night he'd brought Combeferre.

"You like him."

Grantaire grunted noncommittally.

"You do. I always wake up quicker when he's here or you're thinking of him."

"What of it?" Grantaire growled, unamused at being interrogated by his own prick.

"I like him, too."

That provoked another smile. "Of course." Enjolras was eminently likeable. "Although, probably not in the same way. Or do you? Do you have desires? Sexual desires? I mean, you are supposed to be a sexual organ, but I haven't had any since you said Hello!"

"I haven't felt any sexual desires of my own yet. Back to Enjolras. Are you going to do anything about this?"

Nosy and interfering, Grantaire was surrounded by nosy, interfering, well-meaning beings.

"No, I'm not, and neither are you! Enjolras would never look at me like that. Simply having him here, being able to bask in his friendship and company, has been heaven. I shouldn't ask for more. Don't want to push my luck and drive him away again."

"I think he'd be good for you."

Grantaire didn't doubt this. Enjolras had an innate ability to make everything better and brighter, merely by his presence. But what would Enjolras gain from such a relationship? Nothing but one more burden to take on his shoulders. God, he was drunk. And not the good kind of drunk either, but the maudlin, moping kind he got when he drunk brandy instead of wine or absinthe.

His erection bounced. "Don't brood. We'll see him soon, and I'll put in a good word for you!"

"Thank you, Capital R."

* * *

Enjolras knocked on the door, hoping that it wasn't too late, or too early and Grantaire was still out drinking. He hadn't been by since the night that he'd taken Combeferre to meet Alphonse, and he worried a little that Grantaire would be upset. His other friends were long accustomed to the demands of his work, but Grantaire had never fully accepted or approved of his priorities, though he tried. Enjolras also worried about Grantaire's reaction to learning that the others knew of Alphonse. He hadn't told anyone beyond Combeferre, feeling that it was Grantaire's place to tell. But, once confronted and directly questioned, it wasn't his nature to outright lie. Not to his friends. Therefore, he'd confirmed the news, reassured Joly and Jehan that Grantaire didn't seem to be in any danger, and placated Courfeyrac's wounded pride. And now, Grantaire needed to be told.

He knocked again, and this time the door opened. The pleased surprise lighting Grantaire's face caused Enjolras a small pang of guilt, which he quickly tamped down.

"Good evening. I realize it's late, but. May I come in?"

"You are always welcome here." Grantaire moved aside, still smiling. "How have you been?"

"Well, and you? I apologize for not being by recently." They saw each other in the café daily, of course, but never interacted as much there. In the café, Grantaire was brasher, more abrasive, and willing to say anything outrageous just to get a laugh or attract attention. Here was better.

"I'm fine." Grantaire brushed his hand briefly, "Better now you're here."

They moved into the bedroom as a matter of habit. Grantaire, already dressed for sleep, situated himself up by the pillows, and Enjolras dropped comfortably to his knees beside the bed, leaning against the mattress. A touch on his shoulder brought his gaze up.

"I'm glad you're here. Capital R has missed you greatly."

"I've missed him, too. And there is something I need to tell you both."

Grantaire's eyes widened in abject horror.

"Oh, gods. Combeferre's decided to kill me after all! Or take away Capital R! Or perform horrible experiments on us in the name of Progress!"

"What? No!" Enjolras frowned. Where did this fear of Combeferre's reaction originate? Grantaire wasn't the only one who expressed this train of thought.

"No, Combeferre isn't going to kill you. Combeferre is a rational-thinking man who only wants to help. He won't kill you or anyone without provocation."

Enjolras reached for Grantaire's hand, pressing once.

"The others know. Not all, I don't think, but most. Courfeyrac, Prouvaire, Joly, and Lesgles. They asked me if it was true, and I couldn't lie to them, but I told them that deeper questions would have to come to you. I'm sorry."

Staring up at Grantaire, feeling a tiny bit uncomfortable now in his current position, Enjolras waited for Grantaire's reaction.

* * *

Grantaire shrugged, not terribly surprised. Jehan was a fine and very well-meaning friend, but his discretion was rather hit and miss. He wasn't angry, his special Capital R couldn't stay a secret forever. But it was strange to see Enjolras looking up at him with such hesitance. His god should never worry about his own reactions.

"I confided in Jehan, he must have told the others. It's all right, nothing stays secret for long in this group! Don't let it trouble you."

Enjolras' responding smile sent a cozy glow through to Grantaire's heart. He'd missed that smile. With others to capture his attention and weightier matters on his mind, Enjolras was never this open and warm with him at the Musain. He rested his hand on Enjolras' back, just below his neck, in an attempt to offer further reassurance, pleased that Enjolras accepted the touch. The younger man felt warm and delicately fragile beneath his hand. An illusion, Grantaire knew (he'd seen others felled through underestimating Enjolras' strength, and cheered), but one that never failed to inspire his better instincts. But Enjolras was speaking now, and so Grantaire tuned back in.

"Courfeyrac found out through Combeferre. It will be weeks before he lets me forget that. But they are all only concerned for you. They want to know that you are healthy and well."

"Ahh, another would-be doctor wanting to poke and prod! Better Joly than a scalpel-happy Combeferre. Speaking of the devil, I don't suppose he's said anything more? Such as, the exact way he'd like to filet me. But, hold on. I think someone else wants to talk with you!"

Grantaire winced when he caught Enjolras' quick glare.

"I've already spoken with Combeferre, and he won't do anything that could harm you. Really, this tension between you two must stop."

"I'm sorry," Grantaire offered, with a sheepish smile that he hoped looked endearing.

Enjolras reached for his hand and squeezed. "Don't be sorry. Just, both of you, try not to jump to the worst conclusion. And yes, I'd like to see him."

"Bon soir, Enjolras!" Capital R piped up on cue.

"Hello, Alphonse," Enjolras smiled. "It's good to see you again. How have you been?"

"You haven't been by in days! I'm well. But Grantaire's been dreadfully unhappy."

"I am sorry for that. I'll try to do better. But you've been keeping him good company, correct?"

Grantaire listened to them converse, enjoying the moment of peace and contentment. His Capital R really was a good friend. And Enjolras seemed gratifyingly relaxed, leaning against his bed. Grantaire realized that he still had one hand on his friend, and went to move it, but rethought. Enjolras didn't seem to mind, after all, and Grantaire so rarely dared to touch him. Only here. Only like this. He lost track of time, listening to the conversation, chipping in at odd intervals, and admiring his friend and hero. So, he saw when Enjolras' eyelids started to droop, and felt when the slender body slackened against him.

Enjolras blinked twice, deliberately, and straightened up. "I should get going. I'll see you another night?"

"Don't go!" Grantaire blushed at his outburst, but he couldn't bear to see Enjolras leave. He hadn't been here in so long, and it might be another week before he returned. Enjolras blinked at him again, curiously, and Grantaire plowed on.

"It's late, dangerously so. You shouldn't be traversing the city at this hour. Stay just the night, please. I have a spare room with a comfortable couch. Or, you can borrow my bed, and I'll take the couch! Please."

Enjolras looked dubious. He'd never stayed before, no matter how ungodly the hour. He could easily take care of himself, and he couldn't have been completely blind about Grantaire's feelings for him. Could he? With a disarming (hopefully) smile, Grantaire played his trump card.

"If you came to harm upon leaving my place, Combeferre really _would_ kill me."

It was a risk, given their earlier conversation, but everyone knew Combeferre's fierce protectiveness. The risk paid off. Enjolras acquiesced gracefully.

"If you insist, then thank you. But I can't put you out of your own bed. The couch is perfectly acceptable."

Rising to fetch blankets, pillows, and a nightshirt for his guest, Grantaire smiled to himself. Having Enjolras here for the night, under his roof and separated by only a thin wall, was a heaven that he'd never dreamed of actually seeing. Enjolras followed him, chatting still to Capital R. Once in Grantaire's spare studio, he took the bundle and pressed Grantaire's hand once more, thanking him and wishing him a good night.

Grantaire knew that he would sleep well that night, lulled by the sound of Enjolras' gentle breathing.


	6. Chapter 6: A Question Asked and Answered

"That was incredibly boring!" Courfeyrac complained, bounding out of the lecture hall. Enjolras followed at a more sedate pace, a pile of books carefully balanced in his arms.

"While I don't disagree, I'm not sure how you can fairly judge, considering you slept through most of the class." The mild tone and expression belied the harsh words, and earned him a quick smile in response.

"I slept because it was boring!" Courfeyrac was now walking backward while he talked, heedless of the throngs of hurried students.

"You slept because you were up all night trying to defeat Bahorel in billiards." Shifting his books slightly, Enjolras grabbed Courfeyrac before the latter could tumble down a flight of stairs, and spun him back around.

"Thank you! I beat him in the end, it merely took a bit longer than I expected. Admittedly, the river of wine we consumed did not help. But, even after a night like that, I could stay awake if I were truly interested!"

Enjolras chuckled despite himself, the lecture had been extremely dull, and he couldn't truthfully blame his friend. Keeping a firm hand under Courfeyrac's elbow, he steered them both down the stairs and through the crowd.

"Well then, what would keep your interest?"

His companion's wide grin held equal parts mischief and fondness. "Hearing about you, of course."

"Me?" Enjolras jerked to a surprised halt. "I am as well as usual."

Courfeyrac took the lead, pulling Enjolras out the doors and into the sunlight. "Yes, we haven't talked much since new, ah, developments. And I need some coffee!"

Enjolras allowed himself to be pulled toward a nearby café. An easy silence reigned until after they'd ordered a pot of coffee and plate of pastries, and then Courfeyrac angled his chair toward his friend.

"So, tell me what's going on with you?"

Enjolras' brow knitted in confusion. "Nothing out of the ordinary. You've seen me practically every day."

"Hmmm. Perhaps I should be asking after Grantaire?" With a knowing, mischievous look, Courfeyrac leaned his chin on his elbow expectantly.

Fleetingly, Enjolras wondered how many times his friend would manage to throw him off guard in one small conversation. He'd thought that he'd been getting better at navigating Courfeyrac's quirks. Evidently, he still had some progress to make. Collecting himself, he replied, "Grantaire seems well enough. I think he's drinking less, which is good, but you'd probably know more about him in that regard than I do. If I may ask, is there a purpose to these questions?"

"He was a bit out of sorts a week or so ago, although he seems better now. You've been growing closer to him, so I thought I would ask. I like knowing that my friends are well." Courfeyrac's smile was a shade too innocent to assuage suspicion.

"I'm touched. And still confused."

"You two _have_ been getting closer?"

Enjolras nodded affirmation, still waiting to see where this was leading. He enjoyed the nights with Grantaire and Alphonse, the former could be amusing and enlightening company when the drink didn't cloud his mind and the audience, however well intentioned, didn't goad his wilder antics. And Alphonse, experiencing the world only through Grantaire's relays, but with his own thoughts and opinions, offered a different and refreshing perspective. Almost childlike in a way, with an innocence that reminded Enjolras of his younger self.

A tap on his wrist brought him out of his reverie. Courfeyrac was studying him with gentle, pleased eyes, leaving Enjolras to wonder just what he'd inadvertently revealed.

"I'm glad you're better friends now. Might it lead to more?"

Another swerve, and Enjolras gave up trying to predict the twists of his friend's mind. "More?"

The answering smile was equal parts rueful, comprehending, and amused. "Nevermind. You're supposed to stop me when I get like this."

"I would never. Even if I don't fully understand you."

"Nothing to understand! You know I only want to see you happy." Courfeyrac waved him off brightly.

A light smile lifted the corner of Enjolras' mouth. "I do. And I am."

* * *

He had a new goal. Matchmaking for his friends was, oddly enough, not a frequent occupation for Courfeyrac, but he couldn't resist this predicament. It would be a challenge, one half of the intended couple remained woefully oblivious to all romance and his own charms, while the other half was in such a prolonged state of despair that he seemed to unconsciously sabotage himself every time he dared to work toward his desire. Well, not this time. Grantaire needed to be taken in hand and buoyed up, and Courfeyrac eagerly volunteered for the job. Grantaire's veneration was an open secret among the group, known to all except the intended target, and Courfeyrac had had many conversations with Prouvaire and Lesgles about it. Enjolras' seeming disinclination toward spending time with Grantaire had halted the trio from implementing any plan, for Courfeyrac refused to see his friend pressured into anything truly against his will. (No, convincing Enjolras to spend an occasional evening at the theater did not in any way count!)

But this new friendship changed things. Enjolras had seemed happy and relaxed, talking of his nights with Grantaire. Grantaire could be good for him, give him a measure of peace and joy outside of the republic and the People. True, Enjolras seemed perfectly content and fulfilled in his one dream, but that didn't mean that he _couldn't_ cultivate an additional goal if it came his way. Grantaire, who was always so open in his feelings and pleasures, even when he tried to hide them, could show Enjolras how to truly live iin/i the world, not just soar above. And Enjolras' unbending faith in all humanity and the good in each person was something Grantaire deeply needed. In Enjolras' illuminating presence, one could not help but see his true potential, and strive toward fulfilling it.

It was useless to work on Enjolras, love must slowly creep upon him. Courfeyrac's best plan of action there was to encourage Enjolras' growing relationship with Grantaire, and let nature run its course. So, his attention must then turn to Grantaire, whose self-esteem remained in critical condition. No relationship with Enjolras would last, if Grantaire couldn't see his own worth. A tall order, but luckily Courfeyrac relished a challenge. And, even if romance did not bloom, then some good would remain.


End file.
